


I thought I'd stay

by katreine



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gregbecca
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katreine/pseuds/katreine
Summary: Rebecca is tired of being sane. ~~~College AU where Rebecca and Greg go to UCLA!





	1. spontaneity

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! I'm so excited to share my first CXG fic. I binged the first season three days ago, and let's just say, my heart remains pulverised (why must all my shows endorse major character death/ship destruction). 
> 
> I had to write this fic because it kept cropping up at different times and throughout my thoughts. I'm hoping you'll enjoy this as much as I did writing it. It's not finished yet, but I do have a definitive storyline in mind and would appreciate your feedback.
> 
> Thank you for reading through my A/N! Gregbecca for life ♡

Greg doesn’t know where his roommate, Josh, is. It’s late in the evening and he can barely be bothered to look for him—so he pushes all worries about Josh aside. Besides, Josh is probably partying it up with their other friends while he stays at their dorm room, studying and nuking Hot Pockets. He cracks open his accounting book and starts to read while waiting for his Hot Pocket, but it’s only a few minutes until he falls asleep on his desk. 

He wakes up to the buzz of his phone, irritating and persistent—it’s 3:50 AM and he’s been sleeping for 45 minutes. Unaware that he actually set an alarm for himself, he trudges back to sleep and falls on his bed, limbs sprawled on top of his duvet. He doesn’t bother unplugging the appliances and checking if the door is locked. He figures it will be alright.

Turns out, it won’t be.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Rebecca is tired of being sane. Sanity is overrated, she tells herself, as she peruses through her neatly-written notes. She’s tired of all the order in her textbooks, the routinely call of her mother every six in the morning and six in the evening. She’s tired of the routine; she’s tired of being safe.

And most of all, she’s tired of waiting for Josh Chan to call her.

Rebecca met Josh at the boba place where she gets her caffeine fix everyday—she swears she’s not an addict—when their orders gets mixed up. It happens twice—she misses her triple-shot espresso with no sugar and cream, and wants to throw away the cotton candy concoction that always has her name on it.

The third time it happens, she finally gets a hold of him and points an accusatory finger.

“Aha! You’re the one who’s been stealing my drinks!”

“I didn’t steal anything!” It’s an insistent tone, and Rebecca looks at the face of the guy who’s been stealing her drinks. He has charming eyes, she thinks, and finds herself stepping over her feet. 

“Uh, I, of course you didn’t. What I meant to say was, you have my drink order.” She points to the tall iced beverage in the guy’s hand, and his eyes widen and brows furrow. “Oh, Is that why this tastes so different?”

Rebecca’s surprised at his tone and decides that while he may not be the brightest bulb, he sure is cute. “Yup, you’ve had my drink order for three long days now. I really need my caffeine and you’ve taken it from me.”

“No wonder I’m not happy. This tastes terrible,” the guy says as he raises his— _her—_ drink.

“Hey!”

“Who orders coffee at a boba place?” The guy asks her with a smirk, and she finds herself answering in defence. 

“Who orders this straight shot of strawberry sugar?” She asks accusingly, and a glow spreads throughout her as the guy laughs. 

“I do. I’m Josh,” he stretches out his hand to her, and Rebecca grabs on to it. Fast.

“I’m Rebecca."

They talk for a few minutes until her next class, and Josh tells her that he’ll call soon so they can share a table and boba again. She looks forward to it more than she realises.

It’s been seventeen days since he told her that.

Is he sick? Terminal? Dead?

Rebecca knows that none of that makes sense, that Josh is a perfectly healthy, buff dude, but she can’t help but make assumptions. 

Until she realises that  she never gave Josh her number. And she never asked for his.

 _So_ stupid.

She looks at the clock on her desk, and it flashes at her. 3:30 AM.

She calls her best friend for help. “Paula, I know it’s late, but I need your help. Look up Josh for me.”

“Where?” Paula’s voice carries over the phone, strong and unwavering, despite the possibility that she might have just woken her up. She feels just a tad bit sorry. 

“In the residential database.” 

“Are you crazy? That’s confidential, private information!” Paula bellows at her, and she rolls her eyes. “Why do you want it anyway?”  
“Because I forgot to give him my number and he hasn’t called me yet and he told me he would! He told me! We had a great time when we met and he hasn’t called me yet, and so I need you to give me his address so I can go to his dorm and surprise him.”

“Whoa, okay. Give me a second.” She hears faint tapping and the murmur of a man, but she files it away for their next conversation. Josh is far more important. “Okay, he lives at Sproul. Third floor. You can ask the RA but it’s the last room down the hall.”

“Right or left?”

“Right. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Had it been any other person, she’d be confused with the good luck comment, but it’s Paula. They understand each other best. 

She changes out of the sushi-patterned pyjamas and into a pink satin chemise, with lace trimming the edges. It’s something she brought out of curiosity and sheer will after she graduated, and kept from her mom. As she grabs her keys and purse, her heart starts to pound. 

_Oh my God, what am I doing?_

She doesn’t know, but there’s a driving force in her, spreading through her veins, giving her courage.

And she knows she has to—wants to—do it.

It’s time to see Josh again.


	2. audacious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca’s done some pretty stupid things. She’s sure that what happened a few nights ago qualifies for top one.

Greg doesn’t hear the door cracking open—or if he did, he chalked it up to Josh sneaking in. He turns in his sleep and he doesn’t realise that he’s half awake until a warmth settles over him and the weight in his bed shifts. A shaky breath blows over his face, and before he can scream bloody murder, a pair of lips crash against his.  
And he can barely move.  
He’s not aware who he’s kissing or whether it’s a dream, but he feels the brush of breasts against his chest, and the pair of soft lips against his feels too good to be true. It’s something Greg missed—college hasn’t been the garden of girls that teen movies have always painted, at least for him—and before he’s aware, the press of lips becomes more insistent. He lifts his right hand to pull the mystery girl closer—places that hand on her lower back, and traces her mouth with his tongue. It’s slow, languid, until the girl bites his lower lip.  
And he loses it.  
He twists over and increases the pressure—somehow he’s not conscious of all his moves. It feels too good, too natural to stop at this point.  
It seems hours of twisting and touching, the temperature in the room rising as they explore each other. As he settles his hands on the nape of the girl’s neck, he realises that he doesn’t even know this girl.  
So he slows it down, even if everything in him screams not to.  
“Hey,” he says hesitantly, and the girl replies in a soft, seductive voice, “Hey.”  
“Let me just turn on the light,” he fumbles, reaching for the light, and as he flicks the switch, his eyes widen and a scream rips out of the girl’s throat.  
“Aaaah! Omigod, omigod, omigod,” the girl stands up and runs to the opposite corner of the room, breathing heavily and clutching the flimsy garment around her hips.  
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says in a calm voice, even though everything in him seems confused. _What the fuck is going on?_  
“Oh my God, it’s not, oh my God.”  
“Um, are you okay? Do you need some, uh, water?”  
“Oh my God. Who are you?” The girl asks him, and Greg takes a long look at her face. She’s pretty, a cherub-like face that’s scrunched up at him.  
“Who am I? Who are you?” He crosses his arms, taking a confident stance, and the girl cowers. Just a little bit.  
“What—wait, this isn’t your dorm,” she says, and Greg’s jaw hangs open.  
“Of course this is my dorm. I live here,” he says incredulously, and gestures to his stuff.  
“But I thought—I thought—Paula said—ugh!”  
Now he’s more confused than ever. “Who’s Paula?”  
“It doesn’t matter.”  
They stand for a few minutes more, the girl hunching over, and Greg’s eyes drop to her chest. _Whoa, dude. Show some respect_ , he thinks, and looks at her chapped lips.  
_Okay, not the best decision._  
“Do you need… help? Are you lost?” Greg has no idea how or why she’s here, but he’s compelled to help her. She doesn’t seem weak, but she seems as if she’s confused that Greg even exists, let alone why she kissed him.  
So is he.  
“No, I, I’m… God. I’m sorry, I gotta go,” she mumbles, and it’s hard to understand, but she leaves in a flurry, grabbing what seems like a small wallet and keys.  
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” He chases after her, but goes back to put on some jeans, and it takes him a while to untangle the legs. After he’s zipped up and buttoned, he runs to the hallway and down the stairs, but she’s long gone.  
No trace of a car or an Uber.  
And so Greg stands in the middle of the road, confused and intrigued.  
~~~~~~

He remains that way for what seems like four, five days, thinking about the mystery girl. He looks for her in every class he has, and even in his friends’, but apparently, there’s no pretty brunette that fits his description.  
Hector calls him out on it, calling him pussy-whipped, but he doesn’t care. He needs to find the girl and….. apologise to her? And ask her out, and maybe kiss her again.  
_Okay, one step at a time._  
He shakes his head and taps his pen on the open book in front of him, but his thoughts are absent, and soon, he finds himself thinking about the mystery girl.  
A blur of wavy brown hair passes in front of his field of vision, and he looks up and sees the object of his thoughts for days.  
He wastes no time and stands up, doesn’t mind the screech of the chair against the library tiles.  
He has to find her.

~~~~~~  
Rebecca’s done some pretty stupid things. She’s sure that what happened a few nights ago qualifies for top one.  
_Stupid, so, so stupid._  
Kissing a stranger wasn’t on top of her bucketlist, nor was it on her to-do list, but she did just that.  
And strangely, she doesn’t regret it.  
Which she should, of course.  
The guy could’ve had a girlfriend, or, worse, a boyfriend.  
_Oh my God. What if that were Josh’s boyfriend?_  
_Omigod, omigod, omigod._  
She can’t focus any more on the legislative proposals in front of her, so she decides to take a walk outside the campus. In a smooth motion, she grabs her Kate Spade tote and goes out of the library, passing the desk and smiling at Mrs. Rutherford.  
She hadn’t gone far when a hand rests on her right shoulder, and she spins around.  
And sees the guy from five nights ago.  
_Omigod, omigod, omigod._  
“Hi,” he says breathlessly. Why is he breathless?  
_Oh my God. He looks good._  
In the light of day, he looks better, if that makes sense. Rebecca already knew that this guy was attractive—that was the first thought that came to mind when he turned on the light—but illuminated in the California sun, he looks even better than any tanned hottie from her class.  
“Hi,” she says, and she doesn’t know whether to blurt out a question or her hypothesis.  
So she does both.  
“Are you Josh’s boyfriend?”  
His face crumbles, and she immediately regrets it. “What?”  
“I was asking—I just asked if you were Josh’s boyfriend? Josh Chan?”  
“Uh, yeah, um no. We’re both straight, as evidenced by kissing you,” he says in a deadpan tone, and Rebecca blushes. “And also, we’re roommates.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yeah.”  
“So,”  
“So,” they blurt out at the same time, and the guy clears his throat.  
“I’m sorry—“  
“—I’m sorry”  
“Okay, we have to stop,” he says, and holds up a hand. “Would you like to go first?”  
Rebecca shakes her head, suddenly shy, and the guy nods. “Alright. I’ll go first. I’m sorry for not being proper and introducing myself a few nights ago. I’m Greg. But I’m not sorry for kissing you.”  
Rebecca’s a bit shaken by how straightforward this guy is—so unlike the men in her class, playing around. This guy’s still a guy, but somehow, he’s mature enough.  
And Rebecca finds it intriguingly attractive.  
“Would you like to jump in and tell me your name? And what you were doing in my dorm at four in the morning?”  
“I, uh…. I’m Rebecca. And I was looking for Josh. Josh Chan,” she says by way of explanation, and the guy’s smile drops into a frown.  
“Oh, well. He's not there, and he wasn’t there, because he has a girlfriend and they sleep together all the time,” Greg deadpans, and Rebecca gasps. Just a little.  
“He has a girlfriend?”  
“Yup. So you’d be totally wrong if you went in and kissed him out of the blue. Just crossing the moral boundaries,” he draws a line in the air with a finger and crosses it, and Rebecca tilts her head.  
“I didn’t kiss him out of the blue.”  
“You didn’t, you kissed me.”  
“I didn’t.”  
“You kissed me first,” Greg points out. “And, you came into my room—“  
“—not your room, Josh’s room.”  
“Correction, our dorm room. Anyway, you came into our room, and you kissed me. That’s trespassing.”  
“I’m pretty sure that’s not trespassing.” She crosses her arms, and Greg does the same.  
“It is.”

 “No, it’s not.”

 “It’s not your property,” she points out, and Greg shakes his head.  
“By some degree, it is.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he raises a finger. “I’d like to argue more about this, but it’s ninety degrees out, and I’m in a sweatshirt. Would you like to talk over a cup of coffee?”  
“Um, why?”  
“Because, I like you. I mean, I like your face. Okay. I’m rusty at this,” he admits, and Rebecca finds herself smiling. “What I meant to say is…. I like you. And if you give me a chance, I’d like to kiss you again.” Her eyebrows rise up, and the guy—Greg—adds quickly, “Or, we could just get some great coffee and talk about nihilism. Your choice,” he ends with his hands jammed in his pockets, and Rebecca laughs.  
“Okay, lead me to the great coffee you speak of.”  
“So, to get it straight, you’re going out with me—“  
“—I’m not going out with you”  
“Technically, you are. You’re going out with me for the coffee?”  “Yes.”  
“Great. I always like to lure women with coffee.”  
Rebecca looks up at him, and for the first time in a long time, she finds herself having fun in a conversation. With a guy.  
The last time this happened, she was talking with Josh.  
_Josh._  
_Oh, no._


End file.
